Color of Forgiveness

by Madeleine Beckett

  He stares at her face for a moment before he finally nods. Tapping lightly on the door, he opens it. “Sabrina?”

  “Come in,” she says.

  They step into the room and Dylan frowns at how pale Sabrina’s face looks. It’s almost as white as the pillowcase her dark hair is splayed out on. Sabrina’s gaze drops to their clasped hands before her eyes lift to meet his. “How are you feeling?” he asks stepping up next to her bed.

  “Like I’ve been shot,” she snaps back. Dylan tenses, his mouth dropping open a second before he sees the corner of her mouth lift slightly. He lets out a shaky breath.

  “I’m so sorry,” Myra says.

  “It’s not your fault. The police were already in here and told me what happened so I know you weren’t the one that shot me,” she says to Myra.

  Sabrina reaches her hand up to her bandaged shoulder. “Luckily, the door slowed the bullet down so I didn’t have to have surgery or anything. They just numbed it up and removed the bullet. I’ll have a nice little scar as a reminder.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do for you…” Myra says.

  “There is one thing. Can I have a moment alone with Dylan?”

  Fuck, Dylan thinks to himself, wondering how he’s going to get out of this one. But before he can say anything, Myra responds.

  “Of course…” she says to Sabrina. She looks up at Dylan, squeezing his hand. “I’ll just be out in the hallway, okay?” With trust shining in her eyes, she lets go of his hand and closes the door quietly behind her.

  Grabbing a chair, Dylan pulls it up close to Sabrina’s bed and sits down. Exhaling loudly, he drags a hand through his hair. “I’m so fucking sorry, Sabrina, and I’m sorry I doubted you. If I hadn’t dragged your ass over there, none of this shit would have happened and—”

  “Stop it… just shut up, Dylan. You’re always trying to take the blame for everything. You blamed yourself for what happened to Mel and you’re trying to blame yourself for this. There’s only one person that this can be blamed on and it’s that psycho bitch that shot that gun.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No buts about it. You or Myra could have been shot just as easily. This is not your fault.”

  He nods and stares down at the blanket on her bed. It’s quiet for a moment before Sabrina takes in a deep breath. “I cannot believe this…” she groans, causing Dylan to look up.

  A crease forms in Dylan’s brow. “What’s wrong?”

  She raises her head slightly and stares at him with a scrunched-up look on her face. “Was I acting like that crazy woman?”

  Dylan smirks. “A little…”

  “Oh, dear God, I was,” she groans again her head falling back against the pillow. “I must have sounded insane. I had no idea I was coming off like that.” Her eyes meet his again. “I just knew what I wanted, and I wasn’t afraid to go after it. You know I’ve never had a problem with self-confidence,” she says with a small smile.

  Dylan chuckles. “True.”

  “I felt like... I’m not sure how to explain this, but like I had this sense of ownership when it came to you for some reason. I knew we were divorced and everything, but I somehow felt like you were still mine. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s how I felt. I just didn’t realize that I was chasing after something that I could never have.”

  He takes in a deep breath and nods.

  “I just, I was so angry about everything that had happened to me, to us. It wasn’t fair.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “I wanted to, like, go back in time somehow. Start over again. Start fresh… just me and you. Somehow find that happiness that we lost.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Let me finish,” Sabrina says, raising an eyebrow at him.

  “I know you kept telling me how different you were, and I know what happened changed the both of us, but I just didn’t understand how much.”

  “I’m not the same guy you married.”

  Sabrina nods. “I see that now. I thought I was chasing that young guy I fell in love with in high school. But I’m not so sure he exists anymore.”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “I miss him.”

  “I do too. I hate the fucker I am now.”

  Sabrina laughs and Dylan grins back at her. He watches her face grow serious. “You really love her, don’t you?”

  He pulls in a deep breath. “Yeah… I do.”

  She stares down at her hands in her lap. “The way you were back at her house, how you looked at her… I’ve never seen you like that before.” She looks up at Dylan, tears in her eyes. “She’s a really lucky girl.”

  “You know I’ll always care about you, Sabrina. What we had together, that shit was special… and we made Mel. He was, well, we did good because he was fucking amazing.”

  Tears slip down her cheeks, and she quickly wipes them away. “Yeah, he was. He was very special.”

  She stares at him for a minute before clearing her throat. “I’ll always love you, Dylan.”

  She’ll always have a special place in his heart as well. Just because their marriage ended and things didn’t work out with them, doesn’t mean that he’s going to forget all the good years they had together. He nods and looks back down at his fingers fiddling with the blanket.

  “We did do good making Mel,” she says. “I miss him, so much.”

  “Me too…”

  “Maybe we’ll get to see him one of these days.”

  “Maybe…”

  “Do you think he looks the same?”

  “Yeah… I can’t imagine him any different.”

  “Me neither.”

  It grows quiet again. Dylan tugs at a string on the blanket. “I got a job offer,” she says out of the blue, causing him to look up.

  “Really? Where?”

  “In New York, at an art gallery… You wouldn’t know but mom and dad got a divorce—”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah, and dad moved out there. I had absolutely no intention of taking the job; I was going to turn it down because…” She smirks and flips her hand in the air. “Well, you know why but… I don’t know. I might re-consider it now.”

  “New York....” He repeats nodding as his lip turns up. “You’d do good in New York.”

  “I would, wouldn’t I?” she asks smirking back at him.

  “I think you would.”

  Dylan sits up straighter in his seat, stretching his back. “How long are they going to keep you here?” he asks.

  “Just until my mom gets here... she’s on her way.”

  “How about I stay with you until she shows up?”

  “Oh, no, I’ll be fine.” Her eyes narrow as she stares at him. “And the police are taking care of my car. I know you were worrying about that.”

  Dylan grins because that was exactly what he was going to ask her about. He stands, rubbing the back of his neck before he pushes the chair back against the wall. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. We okay, now?” he asks.

  “Yeah... I promise not to stalk you anymore or make any more threats towards your girlfriend,” she says with a small grin.

  “Good. Knock ‘em dead in New York, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Dylan’s almost to the door when Sabrina calls his name. He turns and his brows crease when he sees her serious expression. “Someday I hope I can find someone that looks at me the way you look at Myra.”

  “You will, Sabrina, I know you will.”

  She stares at him for a long moment before she finally smiles and nods.

  “Bye,” he whispers.

  A tear slips down her cheek as she gives him a small wave. When Dylan closes the door to her room, it feels like closing the door on a chapter of his life. As he walks down the hallway towards Myra, a strange feeling comes over him like he’s walking towards his future with many new chapters to fill.

  “Is she okay?” Myra asks her eyes wide.

  “Yeah,” he say
s as he nods and pulls her into his arms. “She will be.”

  “Are you okay?” she asks as she looks up at him, studying his face.

  “I am,” he says with confidence. Things feel right, settled… as they should be. He leans down, putting his lips next to the shell of her ear. “I love you,” he whispers before he pulls back and stares down into her eyes. “You’re gonna get really fucking tired of hearing me say that because I can’t help that shit.”

  Her smile radiates. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say it, never.”

  “Good. Because you’re gonna hear it a lot.”

  * * *

  Walking hand in hand with Dylan, Myra’s heart beats faster the closer they get to her front porch. Her eyes fixate on the freshly scrubbed spot on the wood floor of her porch; the spot where Sabrina lay earlier, bleeding. She looks up at the bullet hole in the door, and her stomach lurches when she considers again how easily that bullet could have hit Dylan, could have taken him away from her forever. Her breaths gush rapidly in and out of her chest while she waits on Dylan to unlock the door. For some reason, she can’t quit staring at that bullet hole.

  Dylan gets the door unlocked, but doesn’t open it. Instead, he pulls her into his arms. “Are you sure you want to go in there because I can go grab some clothes for you. Or hell, I can just buy you some new clothes in Boise.”

  She tries to steady her breaths. “No, I’m okay. It’s just a little weird being here after everything that happened.”

  “Weird? It has to be fucking terrifying.”

  “Yeah… a little bit.”

  “Well, let’s make this fast,” he says before touching her lips briefly with his. He turns and opens the door, holding it open for her.

  She steps inside and freezes, unable to keep herself from looking in the direction of the recliner. Her heart beats erratically in her chest when she sees the rug that used to be under her coffee table is now missing. The police must have taken it because… She gulps, her stomach flipping, when she thinks of it being soaked with blood… that crazy woman’s blood. How can she ever feel comfortable in this house again?

  Dylan gently turns her around, his strong arms encircling her waist. “Don’t look over there,” he whispers. “You okay?” A deep crease lines his forehead as he intently studies her face. She nods and sighs softly when he leans down and peppers her face with small kisses.

  His lips move to her neck. “All right,” he says before he kisses just underneath her ear. “Let’s get this shit done and get the fuck out of here.” Releasing her waist, he reaches down and grabs her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. She doesn’t look back at the recliner. Instead, she follows him as he tugs her up the staircase. He sits down on her bed and watches her gather her things together.

  After zipping up her suitcase, she takes in a deep breath and looks at Dylan. “I need to go do something really quick. Can you stay here for just a minute?”

  He frowns.

  She smiles. “I’ll be fine. I promise I’ll be right back.”

  He continues frowning at her but eventually nods, clearly not happy about it. Stepping out into the hallway, she closes the door behind her and stares intently at the door at the end of the hallway. Her heart picks up its pace as she slowly begins walking towards it, occasionally glancing over her shoulder. But for once, she doesn’t have any creepy feelings. Her skin doesn’t crawl, and there are no goose bumps on her arms.

  She stops when she reaches the door and waits for a minute, listening. Her eyes drop to the door handle before she furtively glances over her shoulder again, looking all around, expecting any second for someone to whisper in her ear, but nothing happens. Tentatively, she reaches her hand out and touches the door handle.

  Her heart pounds as she pauses and glances over her shoulder one more time. Finally, she turns the handle and opens the door, quickly switching on the light. She frowns when she stares around at the normal homey bedroom filled with family photos and a patchwork quilt on the bed. It looks and feels exactly the way it did when she was a child.

  “Grampie?” she whispers, her eyes moving around the room. “I know it was you. You saved me. You saved my life, Grampie, and I thank you so much for it.” She holds her breath, waiting for something, some kind of sign, something to show her his presence, but nothing happens. “I love you,” she whispers into the empty room. With a small smile on her face, she closes the door.

  As she walks back down the hallway, she thinks about that voice she heard earlier whisper in her ear to run. She can’t explain where it came from. Maybe it was her guardian angel, or some other explanation, but in the deepest part of her heart, she believes it was Grampie. She believes that somehow his spirit either stayed behind or was sent back to protect her. To alert her of the danger that was going on unknowingly below her. Her Grampie somehow saved her and no one can tell her any different.

  * * *

  Dylan glances down at Myra curled up under his arm asleep, her head resting on his chest. His fingers play with the ends of her hair, rubbing the soft strands between his fingers. She feels so goddamn good, all warm and soft.

  Entering the outskirts of Boise, he pulls off at the first exit and drives to the first hotel he sees. Turning off the ignition, he wraps his arms around Myra, gently lifting her off his chest. “Myra?” he whispers.

  Her eyes pop open.

  “Sorry if I scared you. Just lay down on the seat,” he says in a quiet voice as he gently guides her on to her side. He rubs her back. “I’m going to go get us a room. You just stay here and sleep, okay?”

  She mumbles something unintelligible as he pulls her hair back away from her face and over her shoulders. Running his fingers lightly over it, he stares at her for a moment before he gets out of the truck, locking it behind him. After quickly reserving a room for the night, he leaves Myra in the truck sleeping while he grabs their bags and takes them up to the room.

  Opening the passenger side of his truck, he gently picks Myra up in his arms. Her arms slide around his neck, her head resting against his chest as he carries her to their room. Laying her on the bed, he tugs off her shoes. She sits up, sleepy smiling at him as he helps her off with her coat. Grabbing his bag, he pulls out one of his clean T-shirts and hands it to her. “You can wear this,” he says, grinning. While she removes her clothes and slips on his shirt, he makes quick work of his own clothes until only his boxers remain.

  Pulling the covers down for her, he walks around to the other side and slips in next to her. His arms reach for Myra, pulling her tiny frame against his body as he buries his nose in her hair. He squeezes her, probably a little too tightly, but he can’t help that shit because she just feels too good and too perfect. “I love you,” he whispers against her hair.

  “I love you too,” she whispers back. Smiling, his eyes close and within minutes, he’s asleep.

  * * *

  Myra’s eyes fly open her heart pounding out of her chest. She was dreaming about something… but she can’t quite remember what it was.

  She tries to move, but her body feels heavy, like it’s weighted down. Someone groans in her ear.

  Dylan.

  Closing her eyes, she smiles taking in slow, deep breaths and tries to get her heart rate back down to normal. She moves a little and finds she’s a prisoner in Dylan’s arms. She wants to stay trapped this way in his arms forever, but her bladder has other ideas. Lifting her head, she looks at the clock and finds it’s still very early in the morning. Carefully, she scoots out from underneath him and tries not to giggle when he grunts and tries to pull her back down.

  After using the restroom, she stands in the doorway, the bathroom light still on behind her as she stares at Dylan. Lying on his stomach with his mouth slightly open, he snores softly. The covers bunched up around his waist reveal his toned and muscled back and arms. She still can’t believe he loves her, loves her just as much as she loves him. The look in his eyes when he’d said those words… it was beyond anythin
g she could have ever hoped for.

  Walking to the bed, she slips under the covers, staying just far enough away not to touch him. Tucking her hands under her pillow, she continues to stare at him under the soft glow from the bathroom light. He’s so incredibly attractive, his disheveled hair and scruffy face making him somehow even more alluring.

  Her eyes roam over his back and shoulders, desperate to touch him. She wants to feel those strong muscles under her fingertips. Reaching her hand out, her fingertips just barely touch the muscles in his upper shoulder. She stops and watches him for any reaction. His mouth still hangs slightly open, his breathing the same. Quietly sitting up, she runs her fingers lightly over the strong muscles of his broad shoulders… teasing, feathery touches. Her fingers trail over the rounded bulge of his rock-hard bicep and along the corded muscles of his forearm.

  Shifting to her knees, she continues to stare at his upper shoulders, fascinated by his muscle definition. Eyeing a spattering of freckles, her fingers graze over the tiny grouping before she leans down and touches her lips slightly to his warm skin. Her face heats when her tongue sneaks out and licks his salty skin. She has no idea what possessed her to do that. Groaning, Dylan flips on his back, pulling her down on top of him. He wedges one of his legs between hers. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice scratchy with sleep, his eyes still closed.

  “Nothing,” she whispers back, grinning as her fingers spread across his bare chest. “You can stay asleep.” His eyes stay closed, but a small smile creeps up on his lips.

  Keeping her eyes on his face, she leans down, running her tongue over his nipple. His mouth drops open slightly, causing her heart to pound. Growing bolder, she takes his nipple in her mouth, sucking lightly, teasing the tip of it with her teeth.

  “Fuck,” he hisses, his chest heaving. His eyes pop open. “Come here,” he commands in a raspy voice, tugging on her arm.

  Her breathing accelerates as she opens her legs and straddles his hips, her hands resting against his chest. She gasps as he quickly sits up, his hardness pressing against the needy place between her legs. “Myra…” he groans. His fingers tangle into her hair as he pulls her to him, his lips crashing against hers, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth. His warm, rough hand moves up under her shirt, skimming along the top edge of her underwear, touching the tiny indentations on the small of her back. As his fingers trail up her spine, she shudders under his touch. She drags her lips away from his, panting and breathless.